Change Up

by Derek Jeter

  Mr. Jeter tried two other pitchers, but they didn’t do any better. The Indians seemed to lose heart in the end, and wound up losing the game as well, by the gaping margin of 14–6.

  Derek sat steaming through the whole game, which seemed endless to him. From time to time he glanced over at Gary, who was occupying the opposite end of the bench. Gary seemed pleased to be sitting this game out.

  It was so unfair! Couldn’t Derek’s dad see that it was Gary who’d started it all?

  After the game Mr. Jeter tried to buck up the team’s spirits. “A lot of you did some good things that we’ve got to build upon. Coach Bradway and I are going to continue working with you individually as we go forward. You’re all going to be better players by the end of this season, and hopefully that will translate into better results before too long.”

  He paused and cleared his throat. “Now, while I expect you all to make mistakes,” he went on, “there’s no room for negativity or taunting or fighting on the Indians. We’re all on the same team, and I expect you to act that way. Anybody who doesn’t will find a home on the bench, just like they did today.”

  He had to mean Gary and the kids who’d clowned around with him, thought Derek. But his dad was looking right at him. As if the fight had been Derek’s fault!

  “I have a question,” Derek said, raising his hand.

  “Derek?” said his dad.

  “Why aren’t you doing anything about kids who are fooling around?”

  “Derek,” said his father, “Coach Bradway and I will take care of any bad behavior going on, as you already experienced today. In addition, I don’t want to hear any complaints from any of you about anyone else on the team. Let me say it again—we’re a team. Remember that. That means we’re on the same side, in case any of you need reminding.”

  He gave Derek another pointed look. “Understood?”

  “Yes,” said the team members—except Derek.

  “Derek?” his dad said.

  “Yes, I understand.”

  “All right. See you all next time.”

  Derek rode home in silence, while Vijay and Mr. Jeter discussed pitching. Mr. Jeter suggested that Vijay pitch to Derek between now and the next game, in case he ever had to pitch again.

  Vijay begged to go back to the outfield, but Mr. Jeter only said, “We’ll see. In the meantime I want you to be ready, just in case we need you.”

  Derek was perfectly willing to work with Vijay, but it was Gary he couldn’t stop thinking about. Gary had succeeded in sabotaging the Indians, and in Derek’s mind it was Gary who’d cost them the game.

  He felt like screaming as he sat there. Gary’s smile kept appearing in his mind. That kid loved riding the bench! As far as Gary was concerned, it beat playing a stupid game like baseball.

  After they’d dropped Vijay off, Derek’s dad said, “Derek, I can see you sulking back there. I’m sorry you’re unhappy. But I have to say I was disappointed in your behavior today—no matter what anybody else did to provoke you. I expect better of you.”

  His words stung Derek to the quick. “Dad . . . ,” he began, but then stopped, not knowing what to say.

  Chapter Six

  WRESTLING WITH THE MESS

  How had this happened? Being coached by his dad had always been a big dream of Derek’s. His dad wasn’t doing a bad job of it either. Derek could see that he was teaching the other kids a lot of things, making them better hitters, fielders, and base runners. Chase was doing a good job too.

  All of Derek’s life, his dad had helped him get better at sports and games. From basketball to baseball, from chess to Scrabble—even guessing the prices on The Price Is Right on television—his dad had always challenged him to get better, to work harder, to concentrate more, to find solutions.

  And now his dad was his coach for real! But so far it wasn’t anything like Derek’s dream. Right now his dad was mad at him and thought Derek was being a negative influence on the team.

  But it wasn’t true! Derek was trying his best, but Gary had a way of getting under his skin like nobody else. The worst part was, Gary was succeeding in sabotaging the team. They’d already lost their first game, and they seemed hopelessly divided against themselves.

  “We won again!” Sharlee yelled, bursting into the house, with their mom right behind her. The smile on her face was so bright that Derek had to wince.

  His mom was really happy too. “Sharlee hit two more homers, Jeter,” she told her husband. “And she caught every ball at first base!”

  “And Ciara’s parents said she can sleep over on Saturday night!” Sharlee added, bubbling over with sheer joy. “Yaaay!”

  Derek loved his sister like crazy, and that only made it worse that he felt so miserable. He knew he should be happy for her, but he just couldn’t feel happy. He tried to smile, but he knew it wasn’t much of one.

  “We’re 3–0, and we’re never gonna lose!” Sharlee cooed. “Mommy, can I have ice cream now?”

  “After dinner, Sharlee,” said Mrs. Jeter, tousling her daughter’s hair. “But you can have extra sprinkles.”

  “Yaay!”

  Derek sighed. Extra sprinkles. What could he say?

  • • •

  An hour later the family sat together in their living room. Well, “together” might not have been the right word. Mr. Jeter was busy grading papers for his students at the university. Mrs. Jeter was doing extra work as an accountant. Sharlee was working on a puzzle, and Derek was watching the Tigers get slaughtered by the Indians. The real ones, on TV.

  He didn’t really care who won the game. His gaze veered to the window, where outside, the rain was falling heavily, a late afternoon thunderstorm.

  If only it had rained like that during our game, he thought wistfully, then we wouldn’t have lost. . . .

  The phone rang, and Mrs. Jeter got up to answer it. “Hello? . . . Yes, he is. Just a moment. . . .” She took the receiver away from her ear and said, “Jeter, it’s for you. Betty Parnell?”

  Parnell? It had to be Gary’s mom, thought Derek. But why was she calling his dad?

  “Hello?” Mr. Jeter said into the phone. “Yes, hi, Mrs. Parnell. What can I do for you?”

  There was a long silence, with Mr. Jeter nodding his head and frowning.

  “Yes,” he said now and then. “Mm-hmm. . . . I understand. . . .”

  Was it possible? Could Gary really be quitting the team? Derek’s heart was pounding, and he wished he could hear the other half of the conversation.

  “Well, I—” Again his dad stopped talking, obviously having been interrupted. Derek could hear Mrs. Parnell across the room, yelling into the phone.

  “You know what?” said Mr. Jeter. “Let me take this into the other room, where it’s quieter, okay? Just hold on a moment. Thanks.”

  Putting the phone down, he blew out a breath, then said, “I’ll be right back.” Derek watched him disappear into the kitchen. “You can hang that extension up now, Dot,” he called.

  “Hmm,” said Mrs. Jeter as she hung up the receiver. “I wonder what that’s about. Your father seems to have upset somebody.” She looked concerned but went back to her work.

  “I’m . . . going up to study for my math test,” Derek told her. “See you later.”

  “Okay, dear,” his mom said without looking up.

  Derek went out into the hallway. Then, instead of going up the stairs to his bedroom, he tiptoed farther down the hall, to the back door to the kitchen. There he stood, listening through the door as his dad dealt with Gary’s mom over the phone extension.

  “Mrs. Parnell,” he was saying, “I agree with you in principle. And I agree that your son needs to get in better shape. But when he told me he had asthma, I—” Mr. Jeter broke off, interrupted again.

  “That’s right,” he said. “That’s what he told me. Are you saying he doesn’t? . . . I see. . . . Well, then I won’t have to take that into consideration anymore. But there is still the matter of his attitude. . . .”
r />   So his dad did realize what Gary was up to!

  “Well, I can’t have that sort of thing on my team. . . . Yes, I am the coach. And it’s my job to make sure everyone on the team has a good experience. . . . Yes. . . . I’ll tell you what. I’ll make sure your son plays multiple innings next game, if you’ll make sure he doesn’t continue to disrupt the team. . . . I’m sure we can make this work for Gary as long as you and I are on the same page.”

  “Derek?”

  Derek wheeled around, the blood rushing to his face. His mother stood there in the hallway, her hands on her hips.

  “What do you think you’re doing? You said you were going up to study.”

  “I . . . I got distracted.”

  “You had no intention of going up to study, did you?”

  Derek looked at the floor, embarrassed. He couldn’t lie to his mom.

  She sighed, seeming to soften. “Come on away from there,” she said, leading him into the little dining area. “So tell me,” she said, sitting him down and pulling up a chair next to him. “What’s this all about?”

  “Gary’s been ruining the team from the very beginning,” he said. “He clowns around and makes fun of everything and everybody—especially me. And he gets me into trouble because I get mad about it! And some kids laugh at his jokes, and other kids laugh at him, because he’s acting so dumb. And he stinks it up out there too! He doesn’t even care, or want to get better! He just wants to sit on the bench. But obviously his mom wants him to play so that he gets in better shape! So the end result is, we’re doomed! Last Place ‘R’ Us.”

  “Oh, Derek, it can’t be as bad as all that,” said his mom.

  He gave her a look, not saying a word.

  “That bad, huh? Wow. I’m so sorry, old man. And you’ve been looking forward to this for so long. . . .”

  “You see?” he moaned. “And on top of everything else, Dad doesn’t just blame Gary. He blames me! We both had to sit out most of the game, and our team lost! I’ll bet if I’d been in there, we would’ve won!”

  Mrs. Jeter sighed and nodded. “Possibly,” she said. “But obviously your dad felt it was more important to be fair. I’m sure he wanted to nip this whole thing in the bud.” She thought for a long moment, then continued.

  “You know, Derek, it sure does sound like Gary’s got a bad attitude. But at the same time, if the other kids aren’t exactly welcoming him to the team, maybe he’s just reacting to that. You know, people tend to like doing what they feel they’re good at, or at least are getting better at. Maybe Gary would let you work with him on his game?”

  Derek shook his head. “That’ll never happen, Mom. Gary’s not like other kids that way. He’s . . . different.”

  “Really? Are you sure, Derek?” his mom asked. “I’ll bet if you scratch the surface, you’ll find you and Gary have more in common than you think.”

  • • •

  As he lay in the dark, trying and failing to get to sleep, he kept hearing his mom’s parting words, over and over again.

  Could it possibly be true? Could he and Gary actually have something in common?

  Derek sure hoped she was wrong, but in his experience, she hardly ever missed the mark.

  Chapter Seven

  GROWING PAINS

  For game two, against the Yankees, Derek found himself playing the outfield—punishment, he assumed, for getting into it with Gary during the team’s first game. Derek was totally bummed about being in center field, especially since Gary was starting the game in right.

  “This stinks,” Gary said with a sigh. “I’d much rather be anywhere else than here. Even worse is, your dad made my mom promise that I wouldn’t get to have any fun at all around here.”

  Ah, so that was it! His dad had gotten through to Mrs. Parnell, and they were going to work together on Gary’s behavior! So there would be no more clowning around on the bench, or sabotaging team spirit!

  Well, that was a relief, for sure. Derek’s confidence in his dad’s wisdom returned to its normal, high level. “So, no more gags or stupid comments?”

  Gary shook his head. “Depressing,” he said.

  “So . . . what are you going to do?”

  Gary shrugged. “I guess I have no choice but to do my best, as painful as that may be. If I don’t go along, my mom’s not gonna let me go to math camp this summer.”

  Math camp? Derek rolled his eyes. How in the world did Derek’s mom think he and Gary had anything in common?

  At any rate Gary was going to give it his best. His best wasn’t very good, of course, but at least he was going to try. That had to be an improvement.

  “Play ball!” shouted the ump, and the first Yankees batter came to the plate.

  The Indians started out with Dave on the mound for the second game in a row. And even though this time it was Miles catching instead of Derek, Dave fared no better. He was wild, in and out and up and down, walking three men in the first inning and two in the second. And when he did get it over, the Yankees hit it hard.

  Worse, they hit it to Gary, not Derek. And Gary, even though he actually tried for once, still had trouble catching fly balls, or getting a good throw back in to the cutoff man.

  The Yankees brought five runs across in those first two innings, while on their end the Indians scored three, behind Derek’s and Dave’s back-to-back homers in the first.

  Still, the Indians were behind, and when they failed to score in their half of the second, Mr. Jeter took the ball from Dave.

  Dave seemed downcast. It must have felt like he was getting fired from his job, thought Derek.

  Chase was looking over at Dave like he wanted to console him. But Chase, like Mr. Jeter, had to be a coach first and a parent—or, in Chase’s case, a substitute parent—second.

  “Dean, take center field,” Mr. Jeter continued. Turning and handing Derek the ball, he said, “You’re pitching. Go out there and make Coach Bradway and me proud.”

  Derek nodded and set his jaw. “You got it, Dad—I mean, Coach.”

  Derek didn’t really like pitching. Maybe he would have if he’d thought he was better at it. But at least it beat the outfield, or catching, for that matter. You got plenty of action, without getting banged up and sore. Plus, the game was pretty much in your hands.

  Derek knew that, like Dave, he had to put aside his own desires, for the good of the team. Okay, so he wasn’t playing shortstop like he wanted to. But at least he wasn’t on the bench!

  Derek focused on what he’d learned in the past about pitching, from his dad and previous coaches. He tried to throw strikes, and he did pretty well.

  He tried to keep the hitters off balance by changing speeds and the timing of his delivery. He succeeded at first, getting pop flies and ground balls. But after a while the Yankees started to figure him out.

  In the fifth inning he gave up his first walk, to the leadoff batter. Then the cleanup hitter came up and doubled, hitting a slow pitch that hadn’t fooled him. That scored a run to make it 6–3, Yankees.

  The next batter hit a grounder to short, where Derek would have been playing if he’d had his wish. Instead it was Jonathan manning the position. He bobbled the ball, and it trickled to his left.

  When the runner at second saw that, he took off for third. Jonathan recovered quickly and fired to third, but his throw was wild, and the runner came all the way home for the seventh run, while the hitter advanced to second!

  The next batter hit a sharp liner to Jonathan, who ducked, sticking his glove out—and missing the ball. The eighth run scored, and Derek felt all the fight go out of him. Looking around, he saw that all his teammates had sagged after the two errors.

  The coaches kept on shouting encouragement, and Derek rallied to strike out the next three hitters in a row, stopping the bleeding. But in spite of a sixth-inning comeback, the Indians lost their second game in a row, 8–5.

  After the game Derek’s dad told the team not to get down. “You boys played better today overall than last ti
me,” he said. “And I believe you’ll play better in the next game than you did today. I see you all improving, every last one of you.”

  Derek looked around at his somber teammates. Even Gary seemed down, a change from the past, when he would have been exulting in the team’s agony. Attitude-wise, at least, that was an improvement. Finally everyone on the team seemed to be on the same page.

  Chase spoke up. “I know some of you made mistakes out there today,” he said. “And I’m sure we’ll be making our share of mistakes in the future. Everyone does. But if you keep working hard, keep the faith, and keep getting better every game, that’ll translate into victories before too long. Are you with me?”

  “Yeah,” several team members said halfheartedly.

  “Coach just said, ‘ARE YOU WITH ME?’ ” Mr. Jeter echoed, sounding like he was still in the army.

  That got them. The Indians all yelled, “YEAH!”

  “That’s better,” Mr. Jeter said. “Now go home and think on all the things you did right today. We’ll see you next time.”

  The team scattered. Mr. Jeter, Chase, Dave, Vijay, and Derek gathered all the gear and packed the team’s duffel bags.

  “Dave,” said Chase, “take this bag over to the car, okay?”

  “Sure thing,” said Dave, hoisting the heavy bag and trudging off.

  “Let’s get these other bags,” said Mr. Jeter. He and Vijay each hoisted one and took off for the station wagon. “Bye, Chase,” said Derek, about to follow them. “Tell Dave I felt bad about being put in to replace him today.”

  “Derek, sit down for a second.”

  Derek did as he was told. What is this about? he wondered.

  Chase cleared his throat and ran his hands through his close-cropped hair. “I was just wondering how things were going for you.”

  “Me? Okay, I guess,” Derek said flatly.

  “I mean, you always seemed to be having so much fun out there playing ball. Big smile on your face and everything . . . But lately . . . well, let’s just say your focus hasn’t been the same. I was wondering if you noticed the same thing, and what might be throwing you off the track.”